Half of a Whole
by Merlin242
Summary: For 2000 years Merlin has been teetering on the edge of a knife, never fully tipping over the edge. Until now. Consumed with heartache, loneliness and the feeling of failure Merlin finally tries to go too far... Rated T because I'm paranoid. Attempted suicide. I don't own anything. One shot


**AN: So this has been written in my notebook for a few weeks and I haven't had time to type it up until now. Anyway, please let me know what you think- feedback would be much appreciated.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

* * *

He couldn't take it anymore.

The crippling agony that accompanied his every moment. The pain that was ever-present in his body and the emotional anguish that only seemed to strengthen with every breath that he took, every expansion of his lungs; every beating of his heart.

It was too much.

Even in sleep he couldn't escape the suffocating pressure.

On his death bed Arthur told him to always be himself and never change, it was one of his last requests and Merlin had failed at that.

How could he be himself when half of him was in mourning?

He hadn't truly known or understood who he was until he met Arthur, until cryptic dragons and prattish princes became his version of normal. Merlin couldn't be himself when the whole reason for his existence, the source of his heartbreak, was dead and gone.

A sob tore from his throat as a fresh wave of tears spilled over his cheeks and onto the cool metal poised at his wrist.

2,000 years waiting for a ghost and he was finally done.

Merlin had come close a few times over the centuries- when his hurt became too much and it seemed the only way, he always chickened out though; right before the final deed was done.

Not this time.

All it would take was one swipe, one quick slice and a little bit of pressure for blood to gush down his fingertips, for his skin to grow cold and his heart to stop.

One deep trench carved into his skin and he would wake to Arthur's golden halo of hair, sky blue eyes and the warmth of his fingertips gliding across his skin.

Because if he couldn't have Arthur in life; surely he could in death.

So, why was he hesitating?

He remembered what Arthur said way back when _'no man is worth your tears'_.

Except… Arthur was. Always had been.

If he were here Arthur would say Merlin was being stupid, to put the knife down and not let the pain tear him apart.

The only problem…

Arthur wasn't here.

Neither were Gwen, Gwaine, Gaius, Percival, Lancelot, Leon, Elyan and countless others he'd failed to protect.

An old man alone with only his demons to haunt him.

A knock sounded at the door- three rapid beats against oak.

Merlin didn't move.

The warlock carried on staring at the glinting metal, imagined what it would be like to run it along his wrist- to feel the blade pierce his veins and the life to leave him.

He wondered if it would hurt to feel that last puff of air leave his lips and then snorted, a broken, strangled sound as he realised nothing could hurt him more than what he felt now. Nothing could be worse than the emptiness, the desolation, the loneliness that embodied his being.

Merlin tugged up the sleeve of his shirt further, exposing his forearm to the cool air.

Dozens of thin white marks littered his arm- he hadn't gone deep enough those times. They screamed at him about how much of a failure he was.

He failed at ending his life.

He failed at bringing magic back to Camelot.

He failed at saving Arthur.

The knocking carried on. Still he didn't move.

Arthur was the love of his life, his best friend, his other half and losing that was like losing a part of himself.

A part of him had died that day, obliterated as he pushed the boat into the water and watched Arthur's body burn. Felt the pit open up in his stomach at the thought of not being able to see Arthur's smile, hear his laugh and feel his heartbeat under his palm.

He dug the knife deeper and the first drop of blood welled up. Crimson staining pale, alabaster skin; blood dripping onto hardwood floor.

The door burst open as he sliced again, breaths becoming shallow and head fuzzy. Shaking hands grasped his- knuckles tightening as they pressed onto the wound.

A damp smell wafted into his nose, the sound of clinking metal echoed in his ears.

Merlin lifted his head, inky black hair flopping into his eyes as he took in the blonde hair and warm blue eyes staring at him.

''Arthur'' he croaked, not fully believing the vision in front of him.

''I'm here'' he whispered, tearing a strip of cloth from his undershirt and securing it around Merlin's wrist ''I'm here and I'm not leaving you again.''

He wondered if he had really died; if he was in Avalon right now and the universe had granted his one wish.

A quick glance around the room disproved his theory.

''You're really here'' Merlin dropped the knife with a clang, spare hand coming to rest on the side of the blonde's face.

''I'm here'' Arthur repeated, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Merlin's wrist, forehead coming to rest on his.

He felt more tears make tracks along his cheeks as his body wracked with sobs.

Merlin clutched Arthur to him, the wound on his arm smearing blood across the tan skin of his cheek through the cloth.

''I'm sorry'' the warlock mumbled over and over again, for what he wasn't sure. For failing to save him, for being too late, for not honouring his last wishes, for not being strong enough to push past the pain, for living like a ghost?

Arthur didn't reply; just continued holding him tight and running a soothing hand down Merlin's back.

And for the first time in 2000 years, Merlin felt whole.

* * *

 **AN: So what did you think? Please let me know what you think and please read and review.**


End file.
